lost boy

When he next Friday comes, Steve’s prepared. He spent most of his week studying and revising what he already knew. He entered the classroom feeling ready to face every exercise Ms. Santiago would throw at him. What he didn’t expect though, was group work. Specifically, working in pairs. So of course, of course, he’s paired with James. Bucky. He’s paired with Bucky. They have to come up with a dialogue, and they have more than half an hour to do so. Half an hour talking to the guy, being reminded he’s still not good enough. Steve feels his good attitude go out the window, frustration coming in its place. He drags a hand down his face, as everyone stands up to move places. He’s sitting by himself, so the guy comes to him. James sits down, a small smile on his face.

“You ready to nail it?” he says jokingly, which only makes Steve’s blood boil. He knows he’s not as good as James, but he doesn’t need a reminder.

“Sure, James,” he says, his tone flat. The guy looks at him puzzled, but otherwise is not perplexed. He opens his notebook, and Steve peeks at it. His handwriting is messy, a lot of things crossed out. He lifts an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything, instead reaches for his books.

“So, I was thinkin’ we could make it like a shop conversation. Y’know, since we were practising appearance and clothing and stuff,” the guy clears, seeing Steve’s lost expression.

“Sure,” he replies, opening his notebook.

“You wanna start?” the brunette looks at him questioningly.

“You go ahead, James,” Steve makes a gesture with his hand, encouraging the brunette to take the lead.

“Bucky,” he says, his brows furrowed.

“What?” Steve looks at him, confused.

“You keep callin’ me James. My name’s Bucky,” he explains, his expression unreadable.

“Oh, uh, sorry.” Steve says, finally making eye contact. The guy smiles, shrugging.

“So…”

*

“That will be all for today, thank you,” Ms. Santiago says, smiling to her students.

Steve looks down, to hide the smile spreading on his face. All they did today was group work, and well, it was one of the best classes to date. Sure, he wasn’t happy to work with Jam--Bucky, but the guy didn’t try to show off. He actually listened to what Steve was saying, without constantly correcting him. At first he kept interrupting him, but he was quick to notice how irritated Steve got whenever that happened. After that, whenever he got something wrong Bucky would say something along the lines of ‘I thought it was…’ giving him a chance to go through his notes and correct himself. Steve realized what the guy was doing, but he didn’t call him on it. He appreciated it, if he’s to be honest. He still isn’t fond of the brunette, but he guesses he doesn’t hate him that much after all. In the end, they did nail the assignment. They didn’t have any grammar mistakes and Steve was proud of himself. He knows all the credit’s due to Bucky, but he still feels like he had a part in their success.

Steve takes off his glasses and cleans them with the hem of his flannel shirt. Then, he puts them back on and starts packing. He’s not surprised to notice he’s one of the last students in class, only Natasha and Bucky still being in the classroom. He stands up, and runs a hand through his hair, remembering yet again that he needs a haircut. His hair is so long the tips keep falling to his eyes and it’s getting harder and harder to keep it under control. He sighs, rolling the sleeves of his shirt down, then puts his now packed bag on the desk and shrugs on coat.

“смотрите на него,” he hears Natasha say and he looks at the pair still standing at their desk. She’s leaning against the wall, smirking, Bucky still stuffing his books into his backpack. He sends her a small smile, remembering the conversation with Sharon. He guesses he could try to get to know the redhead a bit better, but now’s not the time. “он милый,” she says, quieter this time, returning Steve’s smile.

Bucky looks up at him, then looks at his friend. “заткнуться,” he says, then looks back at Steve, shrugging.

He has no idea what they’re talking about, so he goes to leave the classroom. Before he does though, he hears the girl say “трус!”

*

Steve turns his key in the lock of the front door, then comes inside. He toes off his shoes, taking off his beanie, and unfolds his scarf. He puts it in the closet, then shrugs off his coat and hangs it. He comes inside the small apartment, smelling cinnamon.

“I’m home, Ma!” Steve calls out, leaving his bag on the floor and looking around. Sure enough, Sarah peers out from the kitchen.

“I’m making cinnamon rolls. Want to join me?” She asks, then disappears back into the room. Steve smiles, and follows her. He’s dead on his feet after working eight hours shift and closing the shop, but he loves helping his Ma. During her sickness he learned to fully appreciate the time they spend together, and he never misses any opportunity to do so.

Steve kisses his Ma on the cheek, then washes his hands quickly in the sink. “What do ya need me to do?” he stands beside her, watching her roll the dough.

“Make the tray ready, will you?” she smiles, cutting the long roll into smaller ones. He nods, taking the baking tray out of the oven. He turns it on, then spreads baking paper on the tray and pours some oil on it. His Ma starts putting the rolls onto it in even lines. Once all the rolls are laid out, she puts the tray into the oven and turns on the timer. She washes her hands and Steve starts doing the dishes.

After the kitchen is clean again, Steve makes some tea. Then, they both sit in the stools and talk about their days. He’s happy to tell her all about his progress in Spanish. After all, he’s done nothing but complain about this. She’s happy to hear it, just as he thought she would be. Then she tells him all the gossip from hospital, Steve already familiar with half of the staff there. When the timer beeps, he hops off, and takes the tray out of the oven. He lets the rolls cool down a bit, before putting two on a plate, for him and Sarah to try. He can’t help but snap a quick photo, sending it to Sam, Peggy and Sharon. They all love his Ma and her baking skills. Sometimes she makes something just so he could take it with him and share with them.

After finishing eating, Steve takes the plate and mugs and puts it into the sink, deciding he’ll do the dishes the next day. He kisses his Ma on her cheek and wishes her goodnight, then goes straight to his room, and is out within a minute.

*

It’s Monday morning and Steve’s lying in bed, enjoying the peace and quiet. His Ma already left for work and he has only one class today, late in the afternoon. Normally, he’d be at work, but his manager gave him the day off as he worked every Monday last month. He stretches, groaning, and decides to waste the day drawing. He spent the weekend studying and painting, leaving the house only to meet his friends for coffee. He reaches out to his night stand and puts on his glasses, then sits up and pulls his sketchbook from under his pillow. It’s middle sized, black, with a red strap. It’s the one he doesn’t show to anyone, as it’s filled with his personal sketches. He flips the pages till he finds a blank one, then he zones out, letting his hand draw whatever comes to his mind.

The sound of his phone vibrating against the hardwood of the bedside table pulls Steve out of his head. He reaches for the device, rubbing his eyes under his glasses with the other hand.

“Hello?” he answers, then clears his throat. His voice is hoarse even to his own ears.

“Steve?” he smiles, hearing the familiar voice.

“Hey, Peggs.”

“Are you busy?”

“I ahh…” he looks down at his pajama, then quickly glances at his sketch. His stops short, realizing what, or rather whom, he’s drawn.

“Steve?”

“Yeah, what?” He blinks, shutting the sketchbook. “No, I’m not,” Steve throws it at the far end of the bed.

“Well in that case, do you want to go shopping with me? My lecture just got cancelled, and I need to buy a new jacket.”

“Sure,” he breathes, not really listening.

“Great! I’ll be waiting at Starbucks,” she ends the call, and he’s left staring at his sketchbook. He blinks a couple of times, then reaches for it again. He flips it open carefully, searching for his latest work. Once he finds it, he’s left speechless. Bucky’s staring at him from the page, up close. Steve has no idea how he managed to draw the guy so realistically. It’s not like he’s spent much time looking at him, let alone enough to remember small details like the arch of his upper lip or a bump on his right ear. He’s drawn Bucky with a shy, small smile, the corners of his mouth barely lifted. He’s looking at Steve through his long eyelashes, his head slightly down, which emphasizes his cheekbones and defined jawline. His hair is up in a messy bun, a few strings falling softly on his face. There’s a small, barely noticeable crease between his eyebrows, and Steve’s staring at his sketch, mesmerized. He couldn’t have done it better if he'd tried. The drawing is so real, almost alive.

Steve blinks, remembering he’s got somewhere to be. He hides his sketchbook, now even more anxious about anyone finding it. He gets out of bed and goes straight to the bathroom. He takes a quick shower and swallows a handful of pills. Then, he brushes his teeth and goes back to his room. He puts on dark, slightly ripped skinny jeans and a white tee, then pulls on a thick, blue cardigan. Steve runs a hand through his hair, pocketing his phone, wallet and inhaler. After that, he goes to the entry hallway, and puts on his shoes and coat. He takes his beanie in one hand, pulling a scarf over his neck, and leaves the apartment.

Steve comes into Starbucks half an hour later. He's decided that the weather’s good enough for him to walk the distance, but he curses his decision as his lungs are struggling to take a deep breath. Steve fishes out his inhaler from the jeans pocket and takes two puffs, then pushes the door open and gets inside. The smell of coffee immediately fills his nostrils and he finds himself needing a cup. He looks around, spotting Peggy at one of the tables. She’s facing him, but there’s someone else with her. Steve frowns, as she didn’t mention anyone else going with them, and he can’t figure out who that person is. She sees him then, and waves, motioning for him to come closer. He nods his head to the counter, signalling that he’ll get a coffee first, and goes in that direction. Thankfully, the shop isn’t crowded and there’s only one person in front of him in the line. He stands there, waiting for his turn, then orders a medium pumpkin spice latte with coconut milk. The coworker taking his order laughs, sending him a look, but Steve just shrugs. What can he say? He loves that taste, leave him alone.

He takes his coffee from a barista and goes over to where Peggy’s seated. She smiles upon seeing him again and stands up.

“Steve!” she beams at him, as he gives her a quick hug.

“Oh, uh, hi,” the person sitting on the opposite of Peggy says, and that’s when Steve turns back, and his eyebrows skyrocket.

“Bucky? Hi, um… Whatcha doin’ here?” he asks, dumbfounded.

The brunette chuckles. “Havin’ a coffee, obviously,” he shrugs one shoulder, indicating a cup in front of him. Steve looks down at the table, or rather books spread on it. Bucky follows his gaze, then looks down. “Yeah, and that,” he says, a small smile on his face.

Peggy puts on her jacket. “Well, it was nice studying with you,” she sends Bucky a smile, then puts a scarf around her neck.

“Likewise,” he says, a small still on his face. Steve notices that he looks just like in his drawing, his hair up in a bun, a few strings framing his face.

“See you, Bucky!” Peggy says, then grabs Steve by his hand and drugs him after herself. He manages a quick glance at the brunette before they leave.

“Since when are you studying with him?” Steve asks, genuinely curious, once they’re out the door.

Peggy lifts her eyebrow. “I’m allowed to study with whoever I want, Steve,” she says sternly, an edge to her voice.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Peggs. I just didn’t know you were friends, ‘s all,” he quickly explains as he trots after her. She seems to realize she’s walking a bit to fast, and slows down.

“We’re not. We have one lecture together and it got cancelled today, and we both found ourselves in Starbucks. There weren’t any tables left so he joined me,” she shrugs.

“Oh,” Steve breathes, realizing he probably made a fool of himself.

“Don’t read into everything that much,” she nudges his shoulder, knowing he’s close to getting lost in his thoughts.

“Just took me by surprise,” he says defensively, then looks down taking a sip of his latte.

“You still hate the guy?” she asks, mocking his voice in a friendly manner.

“He’s alright, I guess,” Steve mumbles, still refusing to meet her eyes.

“Oh? What changed?”

“We were working in pair in our last class. He didn’t try to outsmart me for once,” he explains, giving her a quick glance to gauge her reaction. Her face is unreadable, though.

“So what, you like him now?” Peggy says cautiously.

“I wouldn’t say like just yet,” Steve shrugs. Sure, he doesn’t hate Bucky that much now, but he’s still not fond of him either.

“Alright,” she nods her head, then changes the subject.

They go into a couple of shops, searching for the right jacket. Peggy finally decides on one, choosing a red, thick coat that goes all the way to her knees. She looks stunning in it, as it highlights her figure and the deep black of her curls. As they’re walking back to the university, they stop at a barber shop. Steve’s been thinking about getting a haircut for a while now, and Peggy is quick to drag him into it. He hasn’t really thought about what he wants though, so he tells the barber to just make it shorter. The guy smiles, saying he knows just how to cut his hair. Steve leans back and lets him do his job, enjoying the feeling of someone playing with his hair. The man gives him an undercut, leaving the hair on the top of his head a little longer. It’s falling to one side, parting naturally. The barber shows Steve how to style it with a little bit of gel and he has to admit that he likes it. He can leave his hair be or play with it, and it’ll look good anyway. He pays for the haircut, leaving a tip as his Ma always taught him to, and he and Peggy leave the shop. Steve needs to go to classes, and she wants to study a bit more, so they part ways.